You Know You’re Getting Old When . . .
Posted: Friday, September 09, 2011
by Brianna Popsickle
Everyone reaches that point when they recognize the fact they’re getting old.
For some it’s when they turn forty, for others it’s when they lose their hair or their kids leave home.
I’ve recently reached that point . . .
As much as I tried to ignore the swelling on top of my foot, my well-meaning friends noticed it too.
Come on, I thought. Gout? Me? I don’t think so. Wasn’t gout a guy thing? A heavy drinking guy thing? I mean, I’ll admit I like my red wine, but only in moderation of course.
I loved nothing more than going to the gym each day, but suddenly standing up and taking those first steps in the morning became a challenge.
When I couldn’t ignore the pain in my foot any longer, I went to see my doctor. Tests revealed arthritis in my left foot.
It actually looked good on me. For years my sister (who had arthritis and some weight to shed) complained she couldn’t exercise because it hurt too much.
‘You have to work through the pain,’ I said in all my wisdom. ‘It will be worth it.’
Looking back I’m surprised she didn’t slap me. The old saying, never judge someone until you’ve walked in their shoes comes to mind.
It was recommended I might want to see a podiatrist.
Podiatrist? Wasn’t that a doctor for old people? The vision of little gray-haired ladies wearing brown, square-toed shoes with laces popped into my mind. I loved my heels, and cringed at the thought.
Unable to put it off any longer, I made the call.
I was optimistic when I showed up for my appointment. I held the door for a woman as she struggled with her walker.
I checked in with the receptionist and took a seat. Another patient (also using a walker) came from an examination room. My optimism was fading.
How good could this guy be? I wondered.
Just then, a woman entered and sat down on the other side of the room. She made eye contact, so I said hello and asked what time her appointment was. It was for the same time as mine.
I hate when they do that.
I casually made my way back up to the receptionist and whispered, “Am I next? That woman said her appointment is for the same time as mine, and since I was here first and have another appointment … well, could I go first?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said.
I returned to my seat feeling a little guilty. The unsuspecting woman looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back.
Quickly my name was called and I was led into an examination room. The next few minutes were a blur.
The whole drive home all I could think was, Orthotics. Five-hundred and eighty bucks each. I needed two pair.
Crap.
I lived in denial for a week trying to put off the inevitable. Finally I gave in and booked an appointment to be fitted.
The doctor (if that’s what you call them) was about fifteen years my senior and thought he was a funny guy.
“Lay back in the chair. Let your legs stretch out and your feet hang down,” he ordered. As I sat back he said, “Relax, it’s only painful for the first fifteen minutes, then the worst is over.”
“Really?” I asked, shocked. “It hurts?”
“No, I was joking,” he laughed.
“I thought you were serious,” I said, sighing with relief.
“But don’t watch,” he added quickly. “Look at the ceiling and count the little dots.”
I automatically looked down.
“I told you not to look,” he snapped.
“I thought you were joking.”
“Nope, I was serious.”
He wrapped warm cloths around my feet. Then removed them and proceeded to wrap them in white cloths.
“Mmm, this actually feels good,” I sighed.
“And it only takes three hours to dry,” he blurted.
“Really?” I asked, unsure how to take this man.
“No,” I’m joking,” he replied.
When he finished I said, “That was easy.”
“It’s great fun. People come in here to get plastered all the time.”
He answered a few questions and told me the orthotics would be ready for pick up in three weeks.
“I guess I’m officially old,” I said.
He looked confused.
“Orthotics,” I explained, “they’re for old people.”
“Hell no,” he replied. “We fit children for orthotics all the time. Now dentures. That’s the sign of old age. You oughta meet my wife. She’s old. But on the bright side,” he added, “she just went blonde.”
“Really?” I asked, impressed with his wife’s gusto.
“Yup, she got tired of wearing the wig for me,” he chuckled.
This guy was a piece of work.
As I made my way to the receptionist to pay my deposit, I told myself it wasn’t the end of the world. After all, he assured me I’d still be able to wear my favourite black heels. Wearing orthotics didn’t necessarily mean I was old. I began to feel optimistic again.
When I got to the front counter, there was a woman ahead of me. The receptionist seemed to know her, like she’d been coming for a while.
She was a tall, beautiful blonde about my age. She had flawless skin, seemed to be in great shape and was wearing a trendy outfit. Then I looked down at her feet . . . big brown old lady shoes.
Ugh!
What the hell, I thought, realizing there was nothing I could do if it came to that. It could be worse. It could be dentures.
Even then, I could always go blonde.
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More commentsHi Brianna, trying my darndest not to be offended by the thought that 40 is "old." The simple "cure" of gout incidentally, is more of the "hair of the dog that bit you." Your good fortune is that you like red wine. Simply drink more of it - you'll never feel the discomfort in your feet whatever the diagnosis. I won't bill you nearly as much as your "doc" for the cure : )
Who said anything about being forty being old? :) And I'm all for more of the hair of the dog that bit you John. It sounds like a plan. But let's be clear, I don't have gout, at least not yet. Thanks for reading and taking time to say hello.
Brianna you never fail to bring a smile to my face and a big LOL . Though I do feel for you. Art was just diagnosed with Osteo-arthritis and a few other "old people" issues. Unfortunately, as a construction worker, he has to work through the pain everyday. He is now taking "horse pills" and says he is sure I am trying to kill him with all the med's I am forcing him to take. LOL Reminds me of your story - My husband thinks I'm trying to kill him.
Hugs, and I hope your feet feel better soon!
Welcome to the real mother nature as she starts giving you the works. For sure it's better than dentures, cataract surgery, a cane? Just kidding Brianna. You're not ready for any of that and the fact about the "elderly happening" right now, their not obvious - only you will know once you're out of the doctor's office, never mind that it's going to be the most expensive pair of shoes you'll ever wear. Walk tall and comfortable. Great article by the way!Thank you. Mother nature can be cruel sometimes, but I will keep your comment in mind. I'm not dead yet, not by a long shot. :) Thanks for reading and commenting.Something tells me, Brianna, that it takes a lot more than orthotics to make you old. In fact, you have another 60 years to show Mother Nature what's up!
Just wait a few years.....GRIN
Do thick ankles go along with the big brown old lady shoes? Now that would really be old age.I think they call them Cankles? I hadn't even thought of that David. Great. Just great. :) On a happier note ... thank you for joining my fan club. I very much appreciate it!
I remember when I turned thirty. I thought it was all over for me. Actually, I could not figure out who or what I was. No longer a young woman and yet certainly not old. Oh well, four kids and a husband quickly put me in my place! Now that I am just over sixty and thanks to lots of modern science, I am right back to thirty again. In my mind that is! Just don't talk to my body. It has another comment to make. Something about a nursing home I think. I try not to listen. Remember, short is not always bad when it comes to shoes and also people.
I loved hearing from you Barbara. Thanks for reading and commenting. Are you from Goderich, Ontario?Yes I am. Still Canada's prettiest town! It was nice to get the notification about your article.. Thank you for the reply.I spent a good part of one summer years ago in Goderich. It really is beautiful. I was so sorry to hear and see the aftermath of the hurricane recently.Paul and I were away at the time and our home did not suffer as much as some did. The rebuilding has started and sprits are high but it is hard to feel as we once did living here. We all want it back the way it was but know that it won't ever be. I believe it will be better.I'm glad you were both okay. What a wonderful attitude you have Barbara, to believe it will be better. That's wonderful.
Brianna,
Thanks for sharing your experience. As much as we all hate to admit it, we are going to mature.
I always tell my patients they are maturing not aging. Think of it as maturation not aging.
Thanks for a GREAT article.
Dr.BraggWell ... the signs of aging will become obvious, as for maturing, I'm not so sure. :) I think you have the right attitude though and thank you for taking the time to read and comment. Also thanks for joining my fan club. I appreciate it!
Well, I've had several foot things happen to me in my life and they all made me feel older than my years. I had a case of gout once that relegated me to geezer status for awhile. I needed a cane and and hobbled around at less that a quarter of my normal pace. The other foot thing was plantar fasciitis, a painful inflammation of the bottom of the foot which occurred after walking miles in a pair of sandals (I have high arches). The doc set me up with a pair of those $500 orthotics and gave me a cortisone shot with super long sized needle. I was forced to totter around for a week before I scheduled the appointment. There are other signs of aging for sure, but lower body ills seem to seem to rush the effect faster than the others.I've been wearing the orthotics for a while but am still having major issues. My mind is racing and my body wants to go, but my foot is not up for it. Frustrating, but minor compared to what many others go through. I will adapt! Thanks for reading William. Hope you're doing well.
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